Immortal Max by Lutricia Clifton

Author:Lutricia Clifton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Holiday House
Published: 2014-08-28T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

Mr. Muller looks like he just stepped out of Hogwarts Castle in the Harry Potter movies. Dark eyes. Pale skin. Wire glasses pinching his nose. His house is filled with dark leather chairs, dark tables with stout legs, and dark bookshelves stuffed with books.

Siegfried is a muscular brown dog with black ears sharpened to a point and dark eyes that never blink. He looks to weigh only nine or ten pounds, but for a little dog, he’s intense.

How can a dog that doesn’t bark be more intimidating than one that does?

Right away, I learn that Mr. Muller is really Dr. Muller. Not the kind of doctor that prescribes pills, but the kind that teaches you. And he prefers that I call him Professor Muller.

“I taught medieval studies, specializing in myth and legends.” He runs fingers along the crease in his dark trousers. Straightens the stiff collar on his gray shirt. “Do you know what that is, Samuel?”

“Yes, sir. Stories about dead heroes and stuff.”

“Stuff—” Professor Muller makes a choking sound, his Adam’s apple moving up and down like it’s on a mechanical pulley. “But you are in part correct. Siegfried was named for a Germanic mythical warrior hero.”

“He was?” I glance at the dog, who looks awfully small to be a warrior, then at Professor Muller. “Mr. P named his dog after Apollo, but I can’t remember what he was the god of.”

“Apollo was the Greek god of music, poetry, and many other things.” Because of his knee, Professor Muller has to use a cane to get around. Stiffly, he shuffles to his bookshelves, which line three walls in his living room. A minute later, he returns with a small dark book.

“This will acquaint you with some of the more popular heroes, gods, and goddesses. You may keep it, as I have no further need of it.” He sits down again, resting his leg on a footstool. “And now let me see the book you have brought.”

I open my scrapbook to the section on miniature pinschers and begin. “Well, for short, miniature pinschers are called Min Pins and they came from Germany. They’re real popular as watchdogs and house pets—”

Without warning, Dr. Muller leans toward me and takes the book from my hand. “I am quite capable of reading for myself,” he says.

“Yes, sir.” I sit quietly, watching him read. Siegfried the warrior dog sits quietly, watching me. Seconds pass. Then minutes. Professor Muller reads everything I’ve collected about Min Pins. Then he sighs, cheeks hollow. Face unhappy. I wonder if my scrapbook didn’t pass the test. If I didn’t pass the test. How I could have made it better.

I breathe deep. “You, uh, you don’t like the scrapbook?”

“No, it is good, actually.” He taps the scrapbook with a yellowed fingernail. “A thorough job. I would give you an A- for completeness, a B+ for organization.” He pauses, looking through the pages again. “And a B for neatness. You could have used a little less paste.” He peels a dried blob of Elmer’s glue off the corner of a clipping.

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